To the Princess, it was an enigma why anyone would smoke, yet the answer seems simple enough when we station ourselves at that profound interface of nature and culture formed when people take something from the natural world and incorporate into their bodies.
Three of the four elements are shared by all creatures, but fire was a gift to humans alone. Smoking cigarettes is as intimate as we can become with fire without immediate excruciation. Every smoker is an embodiment of Promethus, stealing fire from the Gods and bringing it on back home. We smoke to capture the power of the Sun, to pacify Hell, to identify with the primodial spark, to feed on the marrow of the volcano. It’s not the tobacco we’re after but the fire. When we smoke, we are performing a version of the fire dance, a ritual as ancient as lightening.
The lung of the smoker is a naked virgin thrown as a sacrifice into the godfire.